


party

by aprhrodite



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games), Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: F/F, F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprhrodite/pseuds/aprhrodite
Summary: The gang decides to throw Bess a party for her 21st birthday, but the night unfolds differently for everyone.





	1. george

By the time George returns from her evening run, she finds her once mildly boring apartment decorated with balloons, streamers, and red solo cups. She dislikes the color scheme because, well, it’s not black, but seeing as this wasn’t a party for herself, she tries hard not to make a face when she sees the overwhelming amount of pink.

“George!” Bess squeals from afar, dashing out of her tiny bedroom. Her makeup is half-done and her hair is clamped around a curling iron. She frowns. “Where have you been?”

Wiggling off her arm band that holds her cell phone, George says, “I was on a run. Like I always am. Every night.”

“The party starts in like a _half hour_ , go get ready!”

On any other day, George probably would’ve dismissed the remark as one of Bess’ normal antics. But she knows today is special, and, to be honest, she loves her cousin more than anything in the world, so she keeps her mouth shut and marches upstairs to get a shower.

Forty-five minutes and two coats of mascara later, she reappears in their living room, where their furniture has been rearranged to fit nicely against the walls, making room for a dance floor, so it seems. She shakes her soggy hair, ignoring the scowl she’s getting from Bess for not drying it properly, and shoves an apple into her mouth.

Nancy appears from the kitchen, holding a stack of paper plates and some additional cups. Behind her trails Joe, who’s busy stuffing a cookie into his mouth and simultaneously holding two large bottles of liquor.

“Who bought that?” George says, flicking a finger at Joe’s stash.

“I did,”

Behind her, Frank comes in through the front door, holding what seems to be an enormous amount of beer in his left hand and bags in his right. He’s awkwardly accompanied by Ned, who looks a little uncomfortable, and is only holding his car keys while Frank lugs the rest of the stuff into the kitchen.

“ _Whoa_ ,” Joe says, mouth gaping open.

“People, people, _please_!” Bess says, closing Joe’s mouth with her little hands. George rolls her eyes and tries not to look impatient, although it _is_ her signature grimace. “The festivities are underway in fifteen minutes, which means people will be here soon, which means everyone needs t–”

“Birthday shots!”

“W-what?”

Joe pours a clear liquid into six shot glasses, spending an unnecessary amount of time making sure they are all equal. “Birthday shots, Bess. Before the crowd shows up,” He’s saying, tightening the lid on the bottle. “Come one, come all!”

“No thanks,” Nancy says with a grin, leaning up against the doorframe of the kitchen.

George finishes the rest of her apple with a loud _chomp_ and tosses the core into the trash can. “Come on, Nan,” She chides. “It’s her _birthday_ ,”

After a lot of begging and nagging, the six of them find themselves standing around the dining room table, each holding a shot glass. Joe takes this time to utter some _bullshi–_ stuff about Bess, but George is more fixated on the smell of rubbing alcohol wafting into her nostrils and wishes he’d just shut up.

“To Bess,” Joe concludes.

George lifts her shot glass into the air to touch the others’, and then promptly drags it back to her mouth and tips it up. She feels the liquid travel the length of her throat before the burning sensation kicks in, making her esophagus feel like it’s on fire. She grimaces, and tries to swallow the aftertaste, setting her glass down and slumping into the recliner again.

She can’t help but notice Frank’s smile as he watches Nancy down her shot–she’s coughing and wincing, because, _god_ , it’s awful, and Nancy’s not the kind of girl to frequent the local bars on a Saturday night. He pats her back jokingly, and she wipes her mouth, disgusted with the taste.

“Glad that’s over,” Ned says, washing away the alcohol with some soda from the kitchen.

“Yay!” Bess says, clapping her hands together. “Happy birthday me!”

Subsequently, Joe pours her another shot, muttering something about _birthday girl_ and _proper traditions_ , but George is hardly paying attention to him. She watches her cousin drink another shot, and then leans her head back on the recliner.

“George!” Bess sputters. “No time for sleeping!”

George’s eyes flutter open, and she clenches her jaw, swallowing away the harsh _oh really Bess? Party time? Jiminy Crickets!_ she has stuck to the back of her mouth, and instead, says, “Alright, alright. I’m up,”

Honestly, George thought the world of her cousin. Not a lot of people put up with George’s pessimistic cynicism or her dry humor, and although George was typically annoyed by the rampant texts, shopping trips and frequent meltdowns, she felt grateful she had a cousin who also doubled as her best friend. Despite the fact that George was an exact _negative_ of Bess, down to the dark curls and even darker eyes, she found that spending time with Bess seemed to make her happier than the days she spent alone.

As predicted, the guests arrive right on time. It’s mostly people from around town, Ned’s college friends, a few people from the Frank and Joe’s neck of the woods, and some girls from Bess’ work that George barely knows or cares to converse with. The party seems to develop in full swing; everywhere George looks she sees red solo cups, and with Joe controlling the majority of the music, she has little to worry about besides finishing the rest of whatever-it-is that’s in her cup.

As she watches Bess take pictures with her friends, a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner slung across Bess’ thick figure, her eyes suddenly float to the front door. As she expects, _someone_ is late, but when the door opens, she doesn’t recognize them.

Well, she _does_ recognize one of them.

Deirdre Shannon pushes her way through the crowd, blatantly ignoring Bess and scouring the room for Ned. Or, at least, that’s what George _thinks_ she’s doing, because Deirdre’s never expressed interest in neither her _or_ Bess, and tends to frequently uphold her reputation as the River Heights homewrecker.

Still, she looks good in her dress.

The couple who came in behind Deirdre are unfamiliar. The girl has long, dark hair swept up into a braid, her hazel eyes nervously twitching around the room as she clings to the guy beside her. He’s tall, muscular, with a square jaw and round blue eyes. George squints, trying to figure out who the _hell_ they are, because, well, the _fuck_ if she’s going to let some party crashers into her house to ruin her cousin’s special night.

As the two of them step into the living room, George spies a third person standing behind them, kicking their shoes off into the corner with everyone else’s. She has olive-colored skin and almond-shaped brown eyes, deep plum lipstick, and various tattoos covering her tiny frame. Her long eyelashes flutter around as she looks at the other girl, but then she sees George from afar, and approaches her.

George’s stomach does a somersault, but as usual, she remains dutifully calm and wildly uninterested in this mysterious girl’s presence.

“Hey,” She says, and George looks up from her cup to focus in on the gold spirals in this girl’s eyes. “This… this _is_ the party for Bess, right?”

“Yep, this is the place,” George says, her enthusiasm wavering. She nods to where Bess is standing, giggling with her preppy friends and holding numerous items with _21_ all over them. George takes a swig from her cup, then clears her throat. “Uh… do you know her… from… work?”

She knows that’s a stupid question because, quite frankly, Bess would’ve told her. Another part of her felt like there was no possible way a girl like that would ever socialize with Bess’ obnoxious, dog-loving friends.

The girl smiles a little bit, and George can see her tongue ring peeking out from behind her teeth. It makes her nauseous.

_Nope. No no. No._

“Oh, shit,” The girl says. “I’m sorry. I guess I should explain. I don’t really _know_ the birthday girl per se,”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, well, I’m from out of town, and my friends know her,” She points back to the couple by the front door, who are both awkwardly standing there, exchanging nervous looks with one another. “So they brought me along. Hope that’s okay,”

“It’s… fine,” George says.

“I’m Anita,”

“How’s it hangin’?” George says, sipping from her cup again only to mask the embarrassment that’s pooling into her face. She feels nervous and out of breath, and Anita sits on the arm of the recliner, studying George’s cup.

“What’s in there?”

George glances down at her cup again. “Oh, uh, I don’t know, honestly,” She swishes it around, as if that’ll help her. “It’s fucking terrible, if we’re being honest,”

She looks back up at Anita again, who’s toying with her tongue ring with her teeth, sliding it back and forth within the muscle. George doesn’t understand why watching her do this makes her feel so… so fucking _weird_ , but she tries to ignore it.

“I was a bartender last year,” Anita comments. “You want me to try to make you something that’s a little more, uh, delicious?”

“Sure,” George says, awkwardly rising so as to not bump Anita’s thighs, which were curved precariously close to George’s lap.

Anita takes the cup out of George’s hand, downs the rest of the red liquid, and furrows her brow. “Ugh,” She says, smacking her lips together. “That _is_ awful,” She smiles back at George and then, quite suddenly, grabs her hand and leads her towards the kitchen, where all the alcohol has been stored.

George’s heart collapses into her chest, and she follows Anita into the other room, trying hard not to think about how soft her hands are, or why her eyes were so golden-brown, or why she felt like she was about to self-combust.

Anita fusses with the alcohol on the corner, pouring various things into George’s now-empty solo cup. She turns around to face George again, putting the brim of the cup to George’s lips. “Taste it,” She says softly.

The sound of the music is just a quite purr now, and George complies, letting Anita tip the cup gently before allowing George to take a drink. When she’s finished, Anita lowers the cup again, and George licks her lips.

“It’s… good,” She says.

Anita chuckles. “‘Good’? There’s like, tequila and rum in there and you’re telling me it’s just _good_?”

“Well it’s better than whatever the fuck I was drinking before this,” George says loudly, feeling the discomfort web between her bones, and she turns away to face the door just in time to see Frank grab a wine bottle on top of the fridge and disappear again.

“I’m glad,” Anita is saying, and George feels her throat grow tight.

“Me too,” George says, smiling, praying to God that it looks normal and not like the smile of some sort of insane person.

Anita grabs the neck of the tequila bottle off the counter and takes a generous pull, slapping the cap back on with a long exhale. “You know,” She says. “You really should smile more,”

She inches her way passed George, pausing to touch the end of George’s nose with one of her long fingers, and heads towards the door. She tosses her dark hair behind her shoulders and looks behind her only to say, “I kinda like you when you smile,”

Then, she’s gone.


	2. ned

Ned is, well, uncomfortable.

It’s not like he’s not used to awkward conversation, because that’s basically _all_ he’s used to these days. He’s not ever been much of a talker, most of the time stumbling over his words and not making much sense. But now, he’s in a car with the AC blasting, trying to pretend he’s not cold, gazing out of the window, becoming more and more discomforted with the silence.

And oh, yeah, Frank Hardy is driving.

It’s not that the two don’t like each other, but Ned’s more accustomed to talking with Joe most of the time, the more lighthearted of the two, and he and Frank didn’t really… well, agree on a lot of things.

Or did they?

He racks his brain for a minute, trying to figure out the last time he’d had a full conversation with Frank about something other than the weather.

“Looks sort of cold outside,” He says. No use breaking the pattern now.

Frank barely moves, and for a second, Ned’s unsure if he was audible above the loud purr of the air conditioner. But then Frank leans down and clicks off the air, and Ned leans back into the leather seat, suddenly more comfortable.

“Yeah, I guess,” Frank says, eyes focused in front of him.

“Thanks for going with me.” He’s looking at Frank, but, like he’s expecting, Frank doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“No problem.”

“I never know what to buy girls to drink, you know?”

“Yeah.”

 _Great_. He’s not getting what he needs out of this conversation, if he can even consider this an _actual_ conversation, and he’s starting to sweat under the pressure without the blasting AC.

“I didn’t know you drank whiskey,” He comments, glancing in the backseat to make sure the handles of liquor are still cradled on the ground.

Frank nods. He looks nervous, but Ned can’t seem to figure out why. “Yeah,” Frank says. “My dad drinks whiskey, so he always has it around the house. I guess I’m just used to it now.”

“My parents don’t drink.”

“ _Ah_.”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck Ned. Why would you say something like that?_ Amid his inward cursing, rubs his eyes and the space on the bridge of his nose. “I–I mean, my mom has wine sometimes at dinner, but she and my dad don’t like… you know, go out.” He quickly realizes his rambling is making it worse.

“I get it,”

Ned shuts his mouth, sneaking a peek back at Frank, who’s got his hands on the wheel, focused, eyes on the road. Frank’s physique is one to make someone jealous; Ned knows that all the extra training at their… whatever it’s called, _agency_ , has him in the best shape of his life. It’s enough to make him a little queasy, thinking about all the times Frank spent alone with his girlfriend, miles away–

“We’re here,” Frank says suddenly, and Ned blinks himself out of his thoughts.

He attempts to reach for the handles behind him, but Frank’s already got the back door open, pulling up the bag with one swift motion, tossing Ned the keys as he turns towards the door. Ned tries to act like he catches them with one hand, when they actually fall to the ground, leaving Ned in a hurry to pick them up before anyone notices.

Ned trails after Frank, following him into the kitchen where Joe is busy stuffing his mouth full with cookies. When Joe sees the alcohol, crumbs fly out of his mouth, leaving a mess on the ground. Frank rolls his eyes, and heads back out towards the car to get the rest, and Ned, unsure of what he should do, follows Frank back outside, realizing a beat too late that there’s nothing left for him to carry. He holds the door open for Frank anyway.

“Who bought that?” George is saying as they reenter. The girls are in the living room now, and Ned shoots a small smile at Nancy, watching her tiny lips curl up back at him.

“I did,” Frank says, retreating into the kitchen, leaving Ned to fiddle with his keys.

“ _Whoa_ ,”

“People, people, _please_!” Bess says, completely interrupting Joe in the middle of his outburst. She has one hand on his chin, promptly pulling his mouth shut. “The festivities are underway in _fifteen_ minutes, which means everyone will be here soon, which means everyone needs t–”

“Birthday shots!” Joe exclaims, pouring clear liquor into tiny shot glasses. Ned’s stomach does a twist. Alcohol doesn’t mix particularly well with his sensitive stomach, but it’s not like he’s going to awkwardly deny shots before the party starts.

Bess looks confused. “Birthday shots, Bess. Before the crowd shows up,” Joe’s saying, screwing the lid back onto the handle. “Come one, come all!”

Ned walks closer to Nancy, who’s leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, back towards Frank, who’s fussing around with plastic bags and organizing the bottles on the counters.

“No thanks,” Nancy shakes her head, and Joe’s face falls a little bit. Ned knows she’s not one to drink, and he’s not about to pressure her into doing anything she doesn’t want to do. Besides, it gives him an excuse not to drink as well.

“Come _on_ , Nan,” George throws away her apple core and stands erect, rolling her brown eyes. “It’s her birthday.”

Ned’s surprised when Nancy steps up to the wooden table, her tiny fingers slipping around the shot glass. Frank’s suddenly at her right, holding the shot glass between two of his long digits, although Ned’s sure if he tried to pull off a move like that, the glass would slip and break.

Joe begins his toast, talking about the time they first met, their embarrassing first kiss on the playground (to which he gets a smack in the arm), and seemingly everything in between, before Ned notices how annoyed George is getting and clears his throat.

“To Bess!” Joe says finally.

Ned tips his shot glass back and feels the burning liquid surge down his throat. He tries not to gag–he’s _never_ been good at taking shots–and walks back towards the kitchen. He grabs a coke from the kitchen and takes two generous gulps before rejoining the others in the living room.

“Glad _that’s_ over,” He says, smacking his lips together.

“Yay!” Bess squeals. “Happy birthday me!”

~

Ned treats himself to a couple of beers as people start arriving. He’s relieved to see his roommates, Dave and Burt, walk in with their own case of beer.

“Nicker _son_ ,” Dave says.

“How’s it goin’, man?” Ned lifts his beer to him in salute.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Dave scans the room. “Where’s the birthday girl?”

“Are you sure she’s going to be happy to see you?” Burt says with a grin, elbowing Ned in the side. It hurts, barely, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dave says with a roll of his eyes. “We dated like four years ago.”

Ned collapses onto the couch, taking another swig of his beer. He’s starting to feel fuzzy, but tries to ignore it. He points towards the other side of the room, where Bess is snapping photos of her and her friends. He watches Dave maneuver through all the people, coming up behind her and tapping her on the shoulder. After a moment, she spins around and smiles, grabbing him around the neck and pulling him down in a hug.

“What a lovely couple,” Burt spits sarcastically, pulling a beer from his case. “You think he’s gonna try something with her tonight?”

Ned shrugs. “I dunno,” He finishes the beer in his hand and stands to get another. “We’ll have to see.”

~

Fifteen minutes later, he’s in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge to find another beer for himself, when suddenly, there’s tiny hands covering his eyes.

“Guess who,”

He knows immediately it’s not Nancy and shakes her hands off, standing erect again. Popping his beer open, he heads towards the doorway, anxious to get out of there before anything _else_ happened.

But he knows Deirdre will follow him, so he heads towards the hallway, quickly finding Dave’s stocky build in the crowd, but before he can make his way over, Deirdre’s pawing at his hands.

“Neddy-bear, don’t leave yet,” She coos. “The party is just starting.”

He tries to free his hand, but she’s playing with his fingers. “Hi Deirdre,”

“Hi Ned.”

“What are you doing?” He says finally, pulling his hand out of her grasp.

“Oh, don’t worry. Your little girl thing isn’t around,” She says with a wink, batting her long eyelashes at him, which is enough to make Ned extremely confused with his own arousal, keeping his eyes locked on her face. “Do you like my dress?” She says, as if reading his mind.

“It’s… it’s fine,” He says, shaking his head, fixating his thoughts back onto finding Dave. “You look fine,”

“Thank you,” She says, eyes trailing down the length of his body. “I like this color on you. Have you been working out?” She squeezes his left bicep, not that he’s really flexing anyway, and his face flushes red.

“Uh–yeah, I–I mean sort of, just like, doing push-ups and stuff,”

“Don’t look so nervous,” She releases her grip. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“Uh, thanks,”

She hums for a moment, and Ned’s stomach drops a notch. He feels sick, but continues to take swigs from his beer. All his efforts are about getting away from Deirdre right now. Deirdre, in that little black cocktail dress with the slit right up her left thigh–

“Deirdre, what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

Ned can feel his palms start to sweat. Bess is in front of them now, conveniently blocking his exit, making him trapped in the hallway with the two of them. He finishes his beer quickly, smashing it in his left hand.

“Oh, right,” Deirdre says. “Happy birthday!”

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, and Ned can feel the perspiration slide down his neck, as if every drop of sweat was vibrating to the loud music in the living room.

“No one invited you to this party,” Bess snaps.

“Without me, sweetie, it wouldn’t be much of a party,” Deirdre flicks her long nails in front of herself and examines them. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to ruin your special night. There’s wine in the kitchen. My treat.”

“It’s probably poisoned.”

“Probably,” Deirdre licks her lips, sending Bess to storm off towards the kitchen. Seeing his only chance to escape, Ned tries to move forward, knocking into someone and consequently spilling their drink all over the floor.

“I’m–I’m so sorry,”

“Silly Ned, such a clutz!” Deirdre is chiming behind him, but he pushes his way passed the people, finally ending up in the dining room. Someone set up a makeshift beer-pong table, and he sees Dave at one end, one hand wrapped around a red solo cup and the other flinging a ping pong ball towards the other series of cups.

“Thank _god_ I found you,” He breathes, standing behind Dave.

“Why, Deirdre harassing you again?”

“Yes, Christ, she won’t ever leave me alone,”

“I don’t know why you don’t just give her what she wants,” Dave says, chuckling, downing whatever it was that was in his cup.

Ned rolls his eyes. Pretends he hasn’t thought about it before. Because he hasn’t. No. Never.

“Oh, I don’t know, Dave, my–”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, dude, I know, your girlfriend, I get it,” Dave tosses the ping pong ball and lands it in one of the cups. With a grin, he adds, “I’m just fucking with you dude. I bet she’s already drunk. Just avoid her.”

“Trying,” Ned says, leaning back onto the windowsill, finally ridding himself of his smashed beer can. He thinks about going to get another, but that comes with the risk of encountering Deirdre again, and, well, he’s not sure he wants to do that right now.

Nancy appears in the room now, side-stepping the various guests watching the game of pong, and grabs Ned by the shirt collar. “We need to talk,” She says through clenched teeth, and Ned’s never seen her this upset before, so he just follows her out of the room, ignoring the look he gets from Dave on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really didn't want to add dave into this story, but hey, it's literally giving me orders that i can't refuse. don't worry, though, he's not a main aspect of the story anyway, so if you have no idea who he is, it doesn't matter.


	3. bess

The party is in full force, and Bess could not be more satisfied.

Fairly tipsy from the shot of vodka she had earlier, she wanders around the party happily, teeth playing with her straw, sipping something Joe made her. It’s strong, but she doesn’t mind. I mean, she _is_ twenty-one today.

She watches more and more people flow in, all asking for her, enveloping her in warm hugs and begging her to be in a picture with them. It’s practically Bess Marvin heaven, and despite the weird looks she’s getting from her cousin, who’s cornered in the room, draped over the recliner, she’s having a good time.

That is, until she hears a familiar voice come floating from the front door. Then her night turns from _good_ to _great_.

It’s Mandy, Bess’ childhood friend from grade school. She hardly calls Mandy a friend of George’s, because, really, even though they went to the same school, Mandy is everything that George isn’t, with shiny brown hair and big, beautiful hazel eyes masked with rings of dark eyeliner. She’s always been pretty, and she’s always been Bess’ best friend, but after their family moved away years ago, she hadn’t heard from Mandy in years.

“Oh–my– _god_!” Bess screams, wrapping Mandy up in a hug.

Mandy snaps her gum in Bess’ ear. “What’s up babe? You didn’t think I’d really miss your big twenty-first?”

“I didn’t think you’d be able to fly out in time!”

Mandy pulls her in for another hug, squeezing Bess’ shoulders. “God, _stop_ ,” She smiles. “I wouldn’t miss this day for anything!”

She pulls something out of her purse. It’s long and sparkly, with the words _BIRTHDAYN GIRL_ in big pink letters, and Mandy slides it around Bess’ circumference, pausing to admire her handiwork.

“I _love_ it!” Bess says with a twirl. Flecks of glitter fly into the air, but quite honestly, that’s how she’s always wanted it. “I can’t believe you made this for me!”

“Oh enough already,” Mandy says with another _snap_ of her gum before disposing it in the waste basket. “Come on, girl! It’s your night! Find me some alcohol and introduce me to your cute friends,”

“Not the _greatest_ selection,” Bess chews on her lip, scouring the room. “But hey, I can certainly find someone your type.”

 

Twenty minutes later, the two of them are posing for pictures, smiling and laughing with each other. Bess can sense George is annoyed, still secluded in the back corner of the room, but she tries not to let it bother her tonight. She’s perfectly drunk now, sipping on another cup of _whatever-it-was_ , and she’s finding it harder to keep herself from laughing.

She feels someone tap her arm, and whirls around suddenly. It’s Dave­–or, she _thinks_ it’s Dave. The alcohol is making her vision blurry, and she blinks a few times before realizing it really _is_ him, and pulls him into a hug.

She’s happy to see him. Two years ago, she would’ve kindly punched him in the face, but now she’s happy that he’s here, despite their various problems over the years. He had turned out to be a really _shitty_ boyfriend, to say the least, but he was still one of her good friends, and he certainly knew how to have a good time. For that, she’s grateful.

“Dave!” She says, pulling back. “I’m so glad to see you,”

“Wasn’t expecting _that_ ,” He chides. “But alright, I’ll take it.”

He looks about the same–sandy brown hair, milk chocolate eyes, stocky build, pearly-white smile, everything that had once made Bess’ knees weak. He’d gained a few pounds but looks relatively in good health, and Bess is happy to see him smile after so long.

“Watch it,” She says with a laugh, sipping through her tiny straw again.

“A _straw_?” He says with a shake of his head. “Damn, you really didn’t change much, did you?”

“I prefer not to stain my teeth!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He bats his hand at her then disappears around the corner into the other room.

Mandy’s at her side now, mouth wide open. “Uh, _excuse_ me? Dave? As in, ex-boyfriend Dave?”

“The one and the same.”

“He’s _hot_ ,” Mandy says, staring in the direction that Dave had left, and Bess says nothing, because, well, she’s not wrong.

“He’s a _douche_ ,” She finally says. “But otherwise a total sweetheart. I’m glad he came.”

“Is he seeing anyone?”

Bess pinches Mandy’s arm, making her jump.

“ _Fuck_ —ow, I know, he’s off the market! Why would you pinch me?” Mandy whines, and the two of them burst into a fit of laughter, Bess clinging to the side of the table to keep herself upright. Her head is light and the music makes her sway back and forth.

Then she looks back towards the hallway and sees Deirdre slink around the corner, one hand intertwined with Ned’s, and her blood runs cold.

“That _bitch_ ,” She growls, and Mandy looks taken aback for a moment before matching Bess’ gaze.

“Who’s _that_?”

“ _That_ is Deirdre Shannon, someone who was definitely _not_ on the invite list–” She hands her now-empty cup to Mandy and storms off in that direction, eventually meeting up with the two of them as Deirdre’s hand falls down from Ned’s bicep.

She can feel herself grow hot from anger, though her face is already flushed pink from the alcohol.  “Deirdre, what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

Deirdre, unfazed, turns towards her, one manicured brow raised up high. “Oh, right.” She puts on her best _fake_ smile and says, “Happy Birthday!”

“No one invited you to this party,” Bess snaps, feeling her drink from earlier dance its way back up her throat, burning her mouth a little as she swallows again.

“Without me, sweetie, it wouldn’t be much of a party,” She says, and Bess clenches her fists so tight that her knuckles start to turn white. She’s thinking about the many intricate ways to wring Deirdre’s neck. ““Don’t worry, I’m not here to ruin your special night. There’s wine in the kitchen. My treat.”

She’s examining her long, thin fingers as Bess growls, “It’s probably poisoned.”

Deirdre’s hand falls back down to her side again, and it’s only then that Bess notices the long slit in Deirdre’s black dress that seems to climb up to about her waist. She _would_ wear something like this, to _her_ party, on _her_ special night–

“Probably!” Deirdre says with another less-than-genuine grin, and Bess’ lips upward for a moment before she goes stomping into the other room, Mandy suddenly at her heels, to search for the poisoned bottle of wine.

“Slow down!” Mandy says as Bess claws through the kitchen, searching for wine amid the various bottles of liquor.

“I can’t _believe_ her,” Bess says, her words slipping out more easily now. She raises her pitch for a moment. “‘ _I’m not here to ruin your special night_ ,’” She drops the façade, rolling her big blue eyes. “Such _bullshit_.”

“What’s bullshit? I hope you’re not talking about my music,” Joe appears in the kitchen now, vibing to his own playlist, blonde hair falling carelessly in front of his eyes.

Bess exhales. “No, it’s Deirdre,”

“Who?”

“Never mind!” She exclaims, grabbing the nearest bottle of vodka and pulling from it, choking on the bitter taste, and slamming it back down on the counter with so much force that she’s surprised it doesn’t break.

“Bess, Bess, _babe_ ,” Mandy says, squaring Bess’ shoulders. “Don’t worry about that bitch. She’s not going to ruin _anything_. I’m here!”

“And me,” Joe chimes in, closing the door of the refrigerator.

Mandy eyes Joe for a moment, then grabs the vodka bottle again. “Come on, it’s time to have some fun.”

She pulls Joe and Bess both back outside to the dining room table, quickly clearing some room and pushing the empty cups to the side. “Bess, get up here,”

“ _No,_ Mandy, I’m not–”

“Uh, hell yes you are,” Mandy says, interrupting Bess’ slew of words, patting the top of the table again. To Joe, she says, “What’s your name again?”

“Joe. I mean, sometimes people call me Big J, but I’m fine with Joe,”

“Literally _no one_ calls you that,” Bess says, shooting a cold glance in his direction.

“You don’t know that,” He counters.

Mandy pats the table again, growing obviously impatient. “Up, up, up!”

“What exactly is going on here?” Joe says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re about to take a body shot off the lovely birthday girl here, so consider yourself lucky.”

“He is _not_ about to do _anything_ to my body–”

“Oh would you just quit your fucking whining already?” Mandy laughs. “Get _up_ here!”

Bess clamps her mouth shut and crawls onto the table, lying flat on her back. She room starts to spin for a minute, and then it suddenly levels, and she blinks several times, focusing her view once again.

“I’m not one to touch a lady without her permission,” Joe’s slurring, and Bess squeaks out a laugh.

“Shut up, Joe,”

He grins at her, watching Mandy slide the bottom half of Bess’ shirt up, revealing her stomach and her belly button.

“Ready?” Mandy cocks the bottle, thumb over the opening.

“I _guess_ ,” Joe groans, shooting another smile in Bess’ direction.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mandy says, disappearing for a half second, then returning a beat later with a lemon, which she puts in Bess’ mouth. “Can’t forget about the lemon.”

Bess feels her stomach twist, and the acidity from the lemon is making her mouth twist up. She holds her breath as Mandy pours the cold liquid onto the bottom half of her stomach, watching it gather around her belly button. She squeezes her eyes shut.

She can feel Joe’s lips on her skin, then his tongue, graciously licking at the liquid and making dramatic _slurping_ noises with his mouth. He takes a moment to lick at the sides of her stomach where the liquor had run off, and, when he’s finished, rises to her mouth to take the lemon.

She’s nervous. She can feel her stomach rotating and her forehead grows hot as he draws near, finally planting his lips onto hers for a millisecond before drawing away again, lemon in his mouth.

He bows. “Thank you, thank you,”

In a rush, she pulls down her shirt again, trying not to think about how warm his mouth had been on her skin. She yanks the bottle from Mandy’s hand again, taking another generous pull, and then wipes her mouth and the bottom half of her stomach with her shirt.

“What, no _thanks_?”

“Shut up, Joe,” She giggles, pushing him away, but he’s in front of her again, moving closer to her, body positioned in between her legs as she works at drying herself. “I mean it! Get away from me,”

She tries to be serious, but the harder she tries, the more she laughs, and when she looks up again, Joe’s attempting some serious dance moves, sending her into another fit of laughter.

She hops off the table, moving her shoulders back and forth to the beat, watching Joe make fun of her own dance moves while simultaneously laughing at his. “I’m done with this,” She laughs, trying to push her way passed him, but he’s relentless, standing in her way so all she can do is push against his chest, which is—well, surprisingly a lot firmer than she thought.

“Say please,” He says.

“Joe, _stop_!” She’s giggling more now, her whole body succumbing to the alcohol. “Get out of my way you bully!”

Every move she makes, he counters them, stepping in front of her at just the right time to prevent her from leaving. “I said say _please_ ,”

“Ugh _please_!”

Satisfied, Joe steps to the side, receiving a heavy shove from Bess as she walks passed him. She can’t help but look over her shoulder back at him, and he’s staring right at her, stupid grin plastered on his face, continuously dancing like an idiot, and she finds herself wondering when the hell Joe Hardy got so god damn cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not like me to post two in one night, but, hey, i couldn't resist.


	4. frank

As fun as this party is, Frank seems to be the only one who’s drinking for reasons _other_ than pleasure right now.

Unsurprisingly, his earlier awkward encounter with Ned had gone as expected—painful, and too long for comfort.

“Looks sort of cold outside,” Ned had said to him after becoming bored with the lapses of silences, Frank’s right foot pressing down on the gas a little harder than he should’ve, counting down the street names until he could get _out_ of that fucking car.

“Yeah, I guess.” He responds, leaning down to adjust the air conditioning so Ned would stop pretending that he wasn’t cold.

“Thanks for—well, going with me.”

Frank fixates his gaze on the road, not even bothering to turn to face Ned, internally gagging that someone would actually say that in the first place. It’s not like he had _asked_ Ned to come along. Nancy had suggested that the two of them go together—bless her naïve fucking heart—so instead of acting like an insensitive jackass, he had gone with a fake smile on his face.

He really, really didn’t want to be within five fucking _feet_ of the dude, let alone sitting in a stuffy car with him.

“No problem,” He manages, hoping it’s not obvious that he’s lying through his teeth.

“I never know what to buy girls to drink, you know?”

 _Why are you still fucking talking_? Frank racks his brain for a moment, trying to muster up a time when he’d had a conversation with Ned for longer than five minutes—consecutively—and draws a blank. For good reason, considering he had no reason to discuss anything with the likes of Ned.

His sudden animosity catches him off guard, and he swallows for a moment, coming to the realization that he’s only setting himself up for failure, internally hating Ned like this. Truth be told, he had no _solid_ reason to hate the kid in the first place. Besides, coming into a party with some tension and combining alcohol would only make the night turn sour, and this was about Bess, not Frank’s distaste for Nancy’s boyfriend.

 _Boyfriend_.

“Y-Yeah,” He says, swerving into the exit lane of the highway. He can see Ned through his peripherals adjust himself in his chair, glancing out the window. Some part of him feels bad for being so unsociable, but the other half of him—the louder one—is telling him not to care.

“I didn’t know you drank whiskey.” Ned says quite suddenly, shifting to look behind the seat to the assorted handles of liquor on the ground.

Frank nods, trying to keep his face neutral. “Yeah. My dad drinks whiskey, so he always has it around the house. I guess I’m just used to it now.” _There_ , he thinks. _That’s like… twenty-one words for the kid to work with_.

“My parents don’t drink.”

“Ah.”

The two of them fall silent again, suddenly lost in the tangles of their own thoughts, Frank’s neck suddenly damp with nervous perspiration. It shouldn’t be this hard to hold a conversation with someone, and yet, here he is, losing motivation to speak by the second.

“I-I mean,” Ned says sort of all at once, mushing the words together in a rush. “My mom has wine sometimes at dinner, but she and my dad don’t like… you know, go out.”

“I get it.” Frank scans the scenery for some sort of conversation starter, but it’s been years since he’s been back to River Heights that everything seems to blur together into one, irrelevant blob of trees. Finally, he sees the outline of the house in the distance, quickly readjusts himself, and swings into the driveway. “We’re here.” He says to Ned, and that’s that.

Now, Frank’s roaming around the house, solo cup clenched in his left hand, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd of people that’s _not_ Joe, because, well, it’s really fucking lame to hang around your kid brother at a party like this.

That is, until the door opens.

He can see the couple from afar, though he’d recognize that face from a million miles away. Only because he spent many nights fantasizing over it, and now, she was here, standing in the doorway with fucking _Adam_ of all people.

Why Callie decided to show up tonight, of _all_ nights, he’s not sure, but instead of making himself known, he maneuvers through the waves of people into find his brother, who’s busy obsessing over his phone, perfecting the playlist for the rest of the night.

He grabs Joe’s shoulder from behind. “ _Joe_ ,” He whispers.

“W-Who…?” He spins around, albeit a little less-balanced than usual, and it takes him a second for his vision to focus before realizing it’s his brother. “Oh, Frank. What… uh, what’s up? You look like you’re about to throw up. Oh, oh _man_ , don’t tell me that you’re about to—”

“Oh for _Christ’s_ sake Joe, shut up,” Frank says through clenched teeth, downing the rest of his cup and tossing it onto the ground. “Callie is here.”

“ _What!?_ ”

“Holy _fuck_ , lower your voice!”

“What do you mean, _Callie_?” Joe says, blinking, his head almost spinning around completely on its axis, searching for Callie’s figure in the crowd. “You mean like, ex-girlfriend Callie?”

“No, I mean Mom’s cousin Callie.”

“Why would she—”

“Joe of fucking _course_ I mean my ex-girlfriend Callie.”

“Oh shit,” Joe says, his eyes becoming as large as basketballs. “I can see her. Oh, oh _fuck_. Dude, she brought Adam.”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed.”

“That’s… fucking ballsy, on his part. I wouldn’t show my face around after you beat the shit out of him forever ago.” Joe shakes his head. “I wonder why they’re here?”

“She knows Bess.” Frank sighs.

“Yeah, but dude, she _knows_ you’d be here. Like, that’s not just a fucking coincidence.”

Frank opens his mouth but then promptly shuts it tight, seeing Callie pull Adam in his direction, and makes a mad dash to the kitchen, almost knocking into George in the process, who’s busy talking to some girl Frank’s never seen before.

Anxious, he glances around the room, scouring over the bottles of random liquor on the counter, before his eyes fall on a full bottle of red wine stashed away on the top of the fridge, out of sight for anyone that wasn’t his height. Without a thought, he grabs it, pushing the cork off with his thumb, and disappears around the corner again.

He can’t see his brother—or Callie or Adam, for that matter—anymore, so he pushes the neck of the bottle to his lips, quickly gulping down the liquid, feeling the tang wash away the bitter taste in his mouth.  

He can see Nancy standing in the distance, her tiny frame barely visible in the dim lighting. She’s concentrating on something—or someone—out of Frank’s sight, and she doesn’t look happy. He considers approaching for a moment, and starts to devise a plan to move about the growing number of people—

“Frankie! What’s up man?”

_No._

He turns to his right to see Adam beaming at him and for once he’s out of words.

“Uh—hey, Adam.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here!” He says, nodding his head to the music. “This is kind of a groovy party, yeah?”

 _Groovy_. Even the way he talks makes Frank want to reach up and crack his skull open. How could he be so fucking blasé? Three years ago, he’d _literally_ found Adam fucking his girlfriend in the backseat of his car—and consequently smashed his face in the school parking lot—but now he’s acting like none of that ever happened.

Not only that, but he’s acting like he didn’t _bring_ said ex-girlfriend with him. Luckily for Frank, she’s nowhere to be found.  

“Yeah, it’s… it’s uh—”

God, where the _fuck_ was Joe?

“Look, dude, you don’t have to be awkward about this. I’m okay with it as long as you are.”

Frank blinks twice, his mouth hanging open slightly, trying to register if Adam had _actually_ just said that to him.

 _Oh, no big deal. I fucked your girlfriend and ruined your relationship three years ago, but I’m okay with it as long as you are, friend_.

“I don’t… I don’t really feel alright with this.”

Adam smirks. _Fuck you._ “It was a long time ago—” He extends out an arm, firmly placing it on Frank’s shoulder. “—right, brother?”

Frank shrugs Adam’s hand off him, quickly changing the mood of the conversation. “No. You _fucked_ my girlfriend in the backseat of your car.” He purses his lips together in a flat line, suddenly taking a generous pull from the wine bottle. “It’s _not_ going to be okay.”

Before Adam can muster another sentence, Frank pushes past him, his shoulder smacking into Adam’s chest. He ends up in a room hoarding the source of the music, the bass ringing through his ears. He can feel his face flush, and at this point, he’s not quite sure if it’s because of anger or the alcohol, but he’s grateful for it, chugging the rest of the bottle before tossing it into the garbage can that’s pressed up against the wall.

A girl to his left watches him, eyes wide. “Whoa,” She says with a giggle. “You gonna be okay after all that?”

Frank peels himself away from her, mumbling over his shoulder, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” But right now, he’s not really sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was tough to write, I'll be honest. It definitely has proved quite difficult to write the same story from like seven different perspectives and make everything mesh consistently and simultaneously move the story along. Anywho, it's definitely not close to being over! More to follow.


End file.
